Page 40 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Jamie recapped the tube, then tore open a gauze wrapper. “I know. Thanks.”

Oddly enough, it meant something that she thought enough of him to say that. It made him feel good.

And that was bad.

It meant he’d let his guard down enough for her to see him as something other than a mobster. He’d stupidly led himself down this warm and fuzzy path with her, and he needed to get off it posthaste. A mobster was precisely what he needed the world to believe he was. For the moment, anyway.

Working quickly, he taped the gauze bandage over her wounds, then eased from behind her and stood. “Can you cover me at the bar tonight?”

Her brows drew together in a frown. “Why?”

“I have a meeting with Tony and Paola.” He knew that wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear. From her deepening frown, he was right, and that was okay, because what he needed most right now was a little space from her.

“I see.” Her voice held an icy note, one he’d intentionally put there, but it couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t risk her thinking he was a good guy, which he wasn’t. If he let himself fall into that trap, it could be his downfall and the end of the case. “It should be slow tonight. I guess I can cover things.”

“Thanks.” He hitched his head to the door, but Jax didn’t budge. “Jax, let’s go.” Jax whined then shook his head. “Jax!” Jamie didn’t know what was up with his dog. He never disobeyed. Never.

With obvious reluctance Jax stood, then stretched his neck to kiss Bella’s cheek.

She giggled. “Thank you, Jax.” When she looked back at Jamie, her smile faded.

That was his cue to leave. In more ways than one. “If you leave those puppy cams at the Bistro tonight, I’ll get them up and running for you when I come in on Tuesday. Then I’ll show you how to work them.” He opened the door, waiting for Jax, who plodded outside.

“Thank you.” Bella turned away and tugged the blanket around her, effectively re-erecting that emotional wall between them.

That part of his plan had worked perfectly.

But as he went down the steps to his apartment, he wondered why he felt so miserable.

Chapter Thirteen

The dashboard digital display read five o’clock. Meaning the dinner rush would be kicking in shortly.

Bella’s knuckles whitened where she had the steering wheel in a death grip. Ideally, she would have waited until Monday when the Bistro was closed to have this conversation with Paola. After what she’d learned yesterday from Misty at the bank, she couldn’t wait a minute longer.

Rain pelted the car as she pulled into the circular driveway in front of Paola’s house. Calling her aunt’s place a house was like saying the Titanic was just a boat.

The five-thousand-square-foot, three-story, gray stone monster reminded Bella of a mausoleum. Not even the beautifully manicured lawn and perennial gardens, or the amazing waterfront view of the river, would ever make her feel differently. After her parents had been brutally gunned down when she was five, Bella had lived here with Paola, Tony, and Tony’s older brother, Angelo. Still, it had never been her home and never would be. Whatever love she’d once thought Paola had for her had been tainted with too many lies and deception.

Including the circumstances of her parents’ deaths. Paola had lied about that, too. Years later, Bella learned her parents had been innocent casualties of a mob war—the same one Paola and Tony now waged—making her despise her family’s activities even more.

After all that had come between them, sometimes she wondered if her aunt had ever truly loved her at all.

She took a deep, fortifying breath, then pushed open the car door and leaped out, slamming the door shut behind her as she raced for the front steps. Lightning flashed, followed a second later by a resounding clap of thunder that reverberated inside her chest.

This wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to having again, but it was time to grow a set of lady balls and make one last pitch to extricate Bianco’s Bistro from Paola’s clutches. She had no illusions that today’s conversation would take a different track than the previous ones. She had to try. One last time.

Big droplets soaked her silk blouse as she raced up the stairs. She grabbed the heavy knocker and rapped three times on the massive ash door. The key to Paola’s house still hung on her key chain, but it didn’t seem right going inside unannounced. Not anymore. This wasn’t her house, and it wasn’t her home.

The door swung open. Bettina, Paola’s housekeeper, stood aside. “Good evening, Miss Bella.” Bettina had been in the U.S. for over twenty years, most of it spent in the employ of Bella’s aunt, and she still retained a thick Italian accent. More importantly, she was totally loyal to Paola.

“Hi, Bettina.” Bella went in and automatically kicked off her wet shoes. One of Paola’s pet peeves.

No other words were spoken between her and Bettina. Formalities were the only conversation she’d shared with the older woman, ever since Bettina had ratted her out to Paola for sneaking in late after a party. She’d been sixteen at the time and had liked a boy enough to break Paola’s ironclad curfew. Bella had never forgiven Bettina and since then had never confided a single personal word to the woman.

She looked into the living room, not seeing her aunt. “Where is she?”

Bettina closed the front door. “In the sunroom.”